rivers_bend

Master Post
Part 4

---

Adam's fifteenth birthday was celebrated with his parents, Neil, Danielle, and five kids from his theater group. They ate lasagna and cake and played Karaoke Revolution. It was fun, but it's not what he wants for his sixteenth.

"What do you want to do?" Leila asks when Adam nixes her party plans.

It isn't a good idea to tell his mother that he wants to get his license, borrow her car, and drive up into the hills so he can blow his boyfriend in the back seat with the lights of LA spread out below him. He knows this. He has no desire whatsoever for his mother to have any of this information, except maybe the license part. It's still really hard to not say it, since he's been thinking about it in increasingly graphic detail for days.

"I don't know," he says instead. "Maybe we can have a family party after my test appointment Monday afternoon, and then I can go out with my friends in the evening?"

The look his mom gives him would play great on stage. "You know you can't take your friends out in the car unless your dad or I come with you, right?"

"We don't need the car," Adam says. He wants the car. A lot. But he knows he can't have it.

"Okay," Leila says. "Eleven o'clock, though. It's a school night."

"You're the best," Adam says, and kisses her on the forehead. It makes her happy, and he likes to make her happy.

The twenty-ninth dawns sunny and not too cold, thank god, because Adam really doesn't want to take his driver's test in the rain. He has a text from Tommy wishing him happy birthday and saying he'll see him later, and one from Danielle telling him not to bother bringing lunch to school, and his mom got up early and made french toast. There's a card from his parents with tickets for Wicked inside, and Adam has to get up and hug them both, and Neil says, "You better not expect me to go," but then he has a card, too, and he made Adam a mix CD with some pretty cool music on it, and he says, "happy birthday," and mostly sounds like he means it, so Adam totally forgives him for being snotty about Wicked.

Breakfast takes extra time so Leila drives him to school, and she promises to be back at 2:40 to pick him up and take him to the DMV. Adam's not sure how he's going to wait 'til then. He's still gonna have to take the bus mostly, because he knows his parents aren't getting him a car, but sometimes he's gonna get to drive and it's going to be amazing.

Adam feels like he's going to fly out of his skin by second period, and it's only having seen Ms. Miller's zero-tolerance phone policy result in six of his classmates, including Danielle, getting their phones confiscated that keeps his in his backpack during third period biology where they're talking about the production of ejaculatory fluid. Tommy's school is less strict about phone usage, and Tommy sometimes sends him dirty texts during class. Adam's never been more tempted to return the favor.

When he checks his phone as he's rushing to fourth, though, the text he has from Tommy isn't dirty. He doesn't think. "Meet you at Muma on Melrose at 5:30." Adam's pretty sure Muma is a restaurant, and not like― He's not actually sure what it might be that was dirty that he and Tommy could get into without fake IDs. But Tommy's kind of weirdly sneaky about things like that, even if he's still never going to get served beer in Pizza Express.

"Can't wait :D" Adam texts quickly before slipping through the door, shoving his phone in his bag again.

Lunch is deli sandwiches and homemade cupcakes courtesy of Danielle. "I'm not mad you're celebrating without me," she says, holding his sandwich back over her shoulder so he can't reach it.

"You met him, Danni. And he wants to take me out. I was gonna say no?"

"You're a lucky bastard," Danielle says. She hands over his food. "I'm not really mad."

They’d spent the first half of New Year’s Eve drinking the booze Danielle’s cousin Marisa bought them, and the second half crying into each other’s necks about how they never wanted to fight again, and most of New Year’s day nursing hangovers and the remnants of hurt feelings, and things have been much better since. But Adam has been trying his hardest not to shove Tommy in her face, though the three of them had lunch when Tommy got back from Hawaii so she could get to know him a little.

"I'm really not, Adam." She nudges his knee with hers. "Honestly? I'd probably dump your ass in a heartbeat if I got a boyfriend, even if I didn't mean to. And we still hang out at school all the time, and you came over twice last week, and I do have other friends, you know."

"He's just kind of amazing." Adam can feel the sappy grin that always creeps onto his face when he thinks too much about his boyfriend, and Danielle eyes it with a wry smile of her own.

"Besides which," she says, "I am totally not going to be sticking my hand in your pants, and I'd hate to deny you a happy ending to your birthday."

"I better be getting one of those happy endings to my lunch, though," Adam says gesturing at the box of cupcakes just out of reach.

"You can even have two. And, hey! No refractory period."

Adam decides not to tell her that when you're fifteen and your boyfriend is as hot as Tommy, the refractory period isn't as big a deal as Ms. Miller made it out to be. He hopes this is also true about being sixteen, remembers that it seems to be true in Tommy's case, and takes a bite of his sandwich so Danielle doesn't ask why he's grinning inanely to himself again.

The second half of the school day is worse than the first half, but finally Adam's climbing behind the wheel of his mom's mini-SUV and on the way to the DMV. The test goes okay―he never goes over the speed limit, stays in his lane, stops for pedestrians, and is really careful to avoid California stops. He loses a few points, but he passes, and that's what important. There's cake at home to celebrate, and his mom invited Danielle, so he gets to celebrate with her after all. She even comes when his mom drops him off in Hollywood. Leila lets him drive, but she's not letting him keep the car.

Adam walks into Muma at 5:29, and Tommy's waiting at a table. He has on his Dr Pepper t-shirt and the dark blue jeans that Adam loves. He looks really amazing. Adam would much rather eat him than dinner, but probably that's frowned on by the owner of this place. They don't kiss hello, but the look Tommy gives Adam makes his chest tight, and when Adam sits down Tommy gropes his knees under the table. Eber isn't picking Adam up for six hours. They can kiss later.

"Lemme see your picture," Tommy says when he's done feeling up Adam's thighs.

Adam hates his picture. But he pulls his shiny new license out of his wallet and hands it over.

"Lip freckles!" Tommy says, like that's the best thing ever.

"Freckles everywhere," Adam complains.

"I like them," Tommy says, and looks at the license again before handing it back. "You look good."

As part of one of Danielle’s assignments for psychology class, Adam's working on accepting compliments, so he doesn't argue. Bonus, that makes Tommy smile.

"So, your present," Tommy says. "You don't have to have it, I can get you something else. But if you want it, it's across the street."

There are too many people between them and the window, and Adam didn't bother paying attention to what was across the street when he came in, so he's no wiser. "Okay," he says. "What is it?"

Tommy just nudges Adam's foot with his toes and gives him a mysterious smile. "It's a surprise."

Dinner is also a surprise―way healthier looking than Tommy's usual fast-food fare―but it's good, and Adam eats his whole salad, nuts and seeds and beets and all, and all the fries Tommy doesn't steal, even though he had cake like an hour ago. "Do I get my present now?" Adam asks when Tommy's chewing the last french fry.

"Only if you want it," Tommy says, and Adam wants to shake him and tell him to stop being so mysterious. And possibly kiss him while he's there, arms in Adam's hands already.

"Oh, you know I want it," Adam says instead, kicking Tommy's ankle, making him laugh.

When they get outside the first thing Adam sees across the street is a GoldExchange, but then he looks to the left and spies a neon sign that says BODY PIERCING/TATTOO, and that seems a more likely candidate for Tommy's patronage. Adam's stomach does a roller-coaster swoop. "Are we―" he says, envisioning a thousand things at once: needles pricking his skin leaving him covered in ink and bristling with metal, and his parents' faces, and Tommy holding his hand while Adam gets his name tattooed on his ass―

"Dude, breathe." Tommy hooks a finger around Adam's pinkie. "You're always touching my earrings, and, like, looking at them, and I thought maybe you'd want to get one. You don't have to though. We can―"

Adam's racing thoughts crystallize on a ring like Tommy's that Adam could reach up and touch any time he wanted to. "Hell yes I want to," he says.

It seems to take forever for the light to change, and Adam can't tear his eyes away from the neon sign, but he's holding Tommy's hand, and tracing the shape of Tommy's knuckles with his thumb, and that keeps him from wanting to just run across the street anyway, saying fuck LA drivers and the fact that they would never stop.

Just before the light turns green, Tommy squeezes his fingers, and when Adam turns to look, Tommy's gazing up at him, fond smile on his face. "You weren't just saying yes because you thought I wanted you to, were you," he says, not even a question. "What are you gonna get done?"

Oh, god. Choices. But before Adam can answer, they're running across the street, still holding hands, darting around a clump of girls in high heels and short skirts to get to the sidewalk on the other side. "Faggots!" one of them yells, and Tommy spins back to shout, "Jealous!" back at her, and Adam really can't believe this is his life.

"She just wishes her boyfriend gave as good of head as you," Tommy says, making the heat prickling Adam's face even worse. Tommy doesn't notice, though, too busy dragging Adam up the stairs to the piercing studio.

Despite the seedy looking entrance, the place itself is really clean, and the pierced and tattooed guy behind the counter smiles when he sees them, greets Tommy by name. "This is Adam," Tommy says. "He wants you to put some holes in him."

"My ear," Adam says, because this is the kind of place that puts holes anywhere you want, and Adam doesn't want to end up with an accidental cheek piercing or something.

"We can do ears," the guy says. His own earlobes have holes the size of Coke bottles in them. Adam turns his gaze back to the rings in Tommy's earlobes, thinking about that instead. "I'm James," the guy goes on. "You thinking one in each lobe?"

Tommy has three in his left and two in his right. But he's been talking about maybe getting his cartilage pierced, and Adam wonders what that might look like. "I'm not sure," he says.

"Whatever you want, so long as you don't want more than three," Tommy says. "That winning lottery ticket got sent to the wrong address."

Tommy always seems to have walking around money, and Adam's never asked where it comes from. He always figured allowance, like Adam gets. Now doesn't seem the right time to ask, so he just says, "I was thinking one hole to start with."

James gets out a book of pictures, and the three of them talk about the various places one can have his ear pierced. Even after James explains that lobes heal a lot faster and hurt a lot less, Adam decides to get the cartilage done. It looks cool, and the assholes at school are probably less likely to pick on him for it. Besides, when Adam suggests it, Tommy goes all shiny-eyed glow and says, "Awesome," reaching up to finger the curve of Adam's ear.

Decision made, Adam's left to fill out some paperwork while James gets the equipment ready. "You're going to come with me, right?" Adam says to Tommy when he gets to the part about 'normal' yellowish discharge.

"Hell, yes," Tommy says. Eagerly. Like he cannot wait to see someone sticking needles into his boyfriend.

"You're a little bit crazy," Adam says. Tommy just rolls his eyes.

Once they're sitting down, though, Adam on the bench, Tommy on a chair to his right so James can get to his left ear, Adam thinks Tommy's not so crazy after all. The smell of the cleaner James is using is sharp in his nostrils, and Tommy's hands are heavy on Adam's knee where they're knotted with his, and it feels like everyone is focused on Adam's ear. It's disconcerting and thrilling, and maybe kind of a turn on.

"Right?" Tommy says, like he can see what Adam's thinking.

"We're doing the left one, aren't we?" James asks, pausing in his cleaning efforts.

"Yeah," Adam and Tommy both say, looking at each other with a smile.

"Okay, about ready here." When James lets go of Adam's ear completely, it's cold, and Adam suppresses the shiver threatening his spine. Tommy squeezes his hand tighter.

"Okay," Adam says, not sure if he's reassuring Tommy or talking to James. With a mirror, they check again that it's going where Adam wants it, and then James gets his needle out. Or so Adam assumes by the way Tommy's eyes go big.

There's a pinch, James holding his ear steady, and then he says, "Okay, Adam, breathe for me."

Adam's surprised to realize that he needs to be told. He stares at Tommy and takes a deep breath in, trying not to tense up as he prepares for pain on his exhale. He's so focused on Tommy's face, and the feel of Tommy's hands on his, that it seems like Tommy's the one piercing him. The tension he's trying to avoid in his shoulders coils warm in his guts.

"Now," James says softly, and ow! that fucking hurts, brings tears springing to Adam's eyes, but like when you pull a hair out by the root, not when you fall down and skin your knees. Tommy's breath catches, and he almost crushes Adam's fingers, and Adam never wants to do that again and he wants to do it a hundred more times right the fuck now.

"Dude," Tommy drawls. "Fuck."

Adam just sits as still as he can, hyper-aware that he's got a needle near his skull.

"Just going to put the jewelry in now."

Adam's whole ear is a hot throbbing ache, so he can't really tell what James is doing over there, but quicker than he expected, James is patting him on the shoulder, saying, "All done."

"Thanks," Adam says, brain looping on the porn stereotype of the whipped bottom saying, Please, sir, may I have another. He doesn't notice Tommy standing to plant a kiss on his lips until he's done it and jumped back again.

"No hanky-panky in my studio," James says, but he's smiling when he says it.

"Dude," Tommy says again. He puts his hands on Adam's shoulders and leans close to peer at his ear. "That is fucking hot."

Leaning back, hands still on Adam's shoulders, Tommy looks at James. "Can you―" he says, and then looks at Adam, "Do you mind if―" He fingers his own ear where Adam's is pierced. "Can we do me, too?"

All the good work Adam's been doing getting oxygen to his lungs is undone, and his heart and his dick lurch in tandem. Tommy reads the oh my fucking god yes on Adam's face and turns back to James, says, "Do you have time?"

"I'm your man," James says, "but you gotta sign the forms again."

Adam seriously doesn't trust his legs to hold him, so he takes a second to wrap his arms around Tommy's waist and pull him between his knees for a hug before he tries getting off the bench and onto the chair. "You gonna do your left one, too?" he asks, whispering against Tommy's neck.

"That okay if we're matching?" Tommy pulls away to look Adam in the face.

"Definitely okay." Adam doesn't say that it's pretty much the best birthday present he's ever had.

Tommy lets Adam pull him back into a hug, rest their cheeks together, while James is getting Tommy's paperwork. "Thanks," Adam says. "This is much better than like, a CD or something."

"Like I was gonna get you a CD for your birthday." Tommy nips Adam's jaw, stepping back as James walks through the door. "This gonna hurt more or less than my lip?" he asks.

"Kissing'll be a whole lot less painful," James says, eyes on their linked hands. "Not too different, otherwise. It’ll hurt for longer."

Adam notes that he'll have to ask how long Tommy's lip hurt, because his ear is seriously throbbing. His legs feel steadier though, so he moves to the chair and lets Tommy take his place. It's weird watching James clean Tommy's ear, the smell just as sharp in Adam's nose, but only heat where he knows Tommy's feeling cold. Tommy's knee is pressed to Adam's chest, Adam holding it there with one hand while the other squeezes Tommy's fingers. When James gets the needle out, Adam isn't sure he can watch, but he can't look away. He finds himself breathing with Tommy, deep in and slow out, breath catching as the needle punches through, and he doesn't know if it's the breathing, or the way Tommy bites his lip, or watching Tommy get a ring in his ear that does it, but by the time James is putting the ball in place, Adam is beyond turned on into seriously horny.

Tommy recovers a lot more quickly than Adam did, and before Adam's done thinking about how looking at Tommy's ear now feels like looking in a mirror, Tommy's paying, and they're headed out into the street. "What'd'you want to do now?" Tommy asks once they're back on the sidewalk.

It's about 7:15, and that gives them ages until Eber is picking Adam up. "I want to make out with you for the next four hours. Starting now." Not that the middle of Melrose is the best place to make out.

"Hell yes," Tommy says. "Can you wait about ten minutes?"

Again with the cryptic, but that's worked out pretty well so far for Adam tonight, so he doesn't press further, just follows along as Tommy heads up the street.

Not quite ten minutes later, Tommy rings the bell on a pink stucco apartment building with big glass doors. "Another uncle?" Adam asks, Though he so would not care at this point if Tommy broke into a total stranger's house as long as there was a door to close and maybe a sofa. Or a floor. Carpet optional even.

"Sister's best friend. She's got a hot date tonight with her boyfriend at some house party in the hills, and she owes me for a favor. I had to promise not to drink any of her booze and no getting jizz on her couch, though."

"It's a little creepy you were talking to your sister's BFF about your jizz," Adam points out.

"Not as creepy as―"

The intercom crackles and a girl's voice says, "Tommy?"

"Sorry we're late," Tommy says, and the door buzzes, letting them in.

"As―" Adam prompts.

"As talking to my actual sister about jizz. Tara's cool. Her brother's gay, too. Older than her, though. Their parents don't speak to him anymore. She gets it."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to Adam to hear Tommy say he's gay, given everything they've done together, but somehow it does. Adam's only said the words out loud to Danielle, and that was scary as hell. Tommy says it so casually, like it's no big deal.

"Does your family know about me?" Adam asks while they wait for the elevator.

"Mom and Dad know we're hanging out again but not, like, what we do or whatever. I told Lisa last time she was home, though."

Adam cannot begin to imagine telling Neil, but Neil's thirteen, not in college.

"Do your parents know?" Tommy asks, letting Adam step into the elevator first, hitting the button for the seventh floor.

"Mom suspects," Adam says. "Or Danielle told her and she knows. It's hard to tell."

"She's not mad?"

"Not the kind of thing she'd be mad about. Still don't really want to talk about it with her." He's had all the sex talks with his parents that he can face.

"She still likes me though, right?" Tommy leans against the back of the elevator, so Adam has to turn his head to see him. He can't imagine why Tommy cares if Adam's parents like him, but he's pretty sure Tommy doesn't have to worry.

"She totally likes you. You kept me from falling off the stage and breaking my head at camp that time. Even if she finds out about the pot I don't think she'll forget you saving my life."

That gets a smile. "You weren't going to die, but like, you did go a little overboard with the cartwheels."

Adam gets right up in Tommy's space, pressing him against the wall with his hips. "The scarecrow gets excited, okay?"

"The scarecrow, eh?" Tommy gropes Adam's definitely excited dick and pushes him off when the elevator dings, depositing them at their floor. "Keep your straw in your pants 'til Tara leaves."

Adam laughs despite himself. "Fuck you, straw."

Tommy sticks his tongue out, and knocks on a door. A tiny woman with jet-black hair cut in a bob, and thick liquid eyeliner accentuating the cat slant of her eyes opens it. Adam doesn't know much about shoe designers, but he wouldn't be surprised if her heels cost a few hundred dollars. He feels like an oaf standing in her doorway, like Tommy is man-sized and he's something else entirely.

"Adam, oh my god!" she says. "I think I babysat you and your brother when you were, like, nine or something. You're all grown up!" She hits Tommy in the shoulder. "Nice catch, squirt."

"I'm like six inches taller than you."

"You're also late. Remember the rules. There's Coke in the fridge. Oh, and happy birthday, Adam!"

"Thanks," Adam says, but he has to call it after her as she trots down the hall in a whirlwind of perfume.

Adam's still looking around bemused when Tommy launches himself at Adam's chest, knocking him against the door. There's a minute where Adam thinks they're both gonna go down, but he gets his feet planted and his arms around Tommy's back, and they're kissing, finally, Tommy sucking on Adam's tongue, whimpering, grinding against Adam's thigh, and Adam doesn't care where they are, there's a closed door and Tommy's here.

"God I fucking―" Tommy grabs Adam by the front of his shirt and drags him into the room, toward a grouping of furniture in front of a TV. "Fucking wanted to suck your cock so bad while James was putting that hole in you. What the fuck."

"I―"

"I didn't even know that was gonna happen."

"Me too," Adam says, tripping on the edge of the rug, grabbing onto Tommy's shoulders to catch himself. "It was―"

"Fuck. I want to get your clothes off. No jizz on the sofa, no jizz on the carpet." Tommy looks around wildly.

"I don't think we can fool around in Tara's bed," Adam says, though he would if Tommy nixed everywhere else.

"I don't wanna just rub you off in your jeans. And I still fucking suck at swallowing sometimes."

"Shower?" Adam asks before he really thinks about it. Showering seems like a big step. He still hasn't really seen Tommy naked, not in good lighting. Definitely not all wet, slippery― "Shower," Adam says.

"Fuck. Yeah." Tommy starts pulling off his shirt as he heads for an archway that Adam presumes leads to the bathroom.

Walking while trying to take off your shoes and jeans at the same time turns out to be dangerous, and Adam nearly takes a whole row of pictures off the wall when he stumbles―he'll have to remember to straighten them up later―so he goes for his shirt instead, and by the time he gets to the bathroom he's in his socks and boxers with his jeans half-way down his thighs.

Tommy, on the other hand, has managed to undress completely. He's facing mostly away from the door, reaching for the shower, but is angled toward the giant old-hollywood mirror, lightbulbs blazing all around his reflection. Adam stops dead, breath freezing in his lungs, mouth going dry. Tommy is fucking amazing. He's all narrow angles; he'd probably say skinny, but all Adam can think about is how his hands would fit around him.

With the water adjusted to his satisfaction, Tommy turns around, and Adam hasn't moved. Side on to the mirror, Tommy's dick casts a shadow over his hipbone, and Adam needs to be touching him right the hell now, so he crowds forward, backing Tommy right up to the edge of the shower stall.

"Are you gonna―" Tommy says, trying not to trip on the lip or bang his elbow on the glass.

"Suck you," Adam answers.

"Get naked," Tommy finishes. "Your dad'll wonder why the wet clothes." He laughs when Adam starts shoving at his boxers, stepping on the toes of his socks to get them off.

"You could help," Adam says, though he's really not sure how.

"I'm providing incentive," Tommy says, squeezing his dick before stepping under the shower's spray. With a final twist, Adam kicks off the rest of his clothes and joins him.

The downside of blowing someone in the shower is that tile is really not comfortable on your knees. And there's a high risk of water running down into your nose, which makes it really hard to breathe when your mouth is full. Adam lasts about fifteen seconds and then he's up again, sucking Tommy's tongue instead, crowding him against the wall, palming his junk.

"Nggh!" Tommy says when his back hits the tile―it must be cold, because Adam seriously didn't put him there that hard.

"Sorry," Adam mumbles against his mouth, but he doesn't let him up. He's got Tommy's dick in his hand now, jacking it right up near the head like Tommy likes, and he doesn't want to stop.

"Hogging the hot water," Tommy mumbles between nipping at Adam's lips, and it's true, he is. With pretty impressive coordination, if he does say so himself, Adam gets them turned around so Tommy's got his back in the spray and Adam's up against the wall, legs spread wide so he can get Tommy's dick level with his and rub them together. The groan of pleasure Tommy lets out makes Adam groan right back.

Tommy gets his hand in there too, and it's all a tangle of fingers and palms and hips and cocks for a minute and then Tommy says, "Fuck it," and pulls out of Adam's grip, sinks to his knees.

"That's―" Adam starts to warn him, but the spray's still on Tommy's back so nothing is running into his face, and he doesn't seem to mind the hard tile if the enthusiasm with which he's going at Adam's dick is any indication, and this mouth feels really fucking good, so Adam gives up on words.

And, like, rational thought.

When he comes, he hits his head on the wall, and it jars his ear which really fucking hurts, and he yelps which makes Tommy jump back and get a shot of jizz in the face. Adam tries really hard not to laugh, and fails completely.

"Mother fucker!" Tommy says, pulling himself up with fingers digging into Adam's hips. "How do you make swallowing look so easy?"

He's not sure he does, though he's never coughed jizz on Tommy's lap or caught a shot in the eye, which is something. "You usually warn me before you come?" he says, and he's manhandling Tommy back against the wall again, thinking that if he's not drowning he can probably put up with sore knees.

Not that it takes Tommy long. Because he can, Adam pulls off when Tommy starts coming, and jerks him so he comes down Adam's neck and chest. When Tommy opens his eyes, they go comically wide, and Adam starts laughing again, laughing even harder when he makes Tommy squeak by pulling him close and smearing the mess between them.

"You're crazy!" Tommy says, batting at Adam's shoulders, but he's wiggling his hips to help and starting to laugh too, so Adam ignores him.

The smearing and wriggling becomes a slow, sticky grinding, and their laughter peters out into heavy breathing, Tommy clinging to Adam's neck, Adam trailing kisses down Tommy's cheekbones and nuzzling under his chin, lapping at the beads of water and sweat he finds.

"This is the best birthday ever," he murmurs when even their grinding has slowed to a stop.

"I don't know," Tommy says, teasing drawl. "That one at Disneyland when you turned ten was pretty awesome."

It hits Adam that it's weird, in a really fantastic way, that Tommy was there to see him cry when his brother puked on him on the teacups, and still wants to be here with him now, naked, and stuck to him with spunk. "I did get a pair of Mickey Mouse sweats," Adam says. Then, feeling a little reckless, "I'd rather have you, though." That gets him a bite to his collar bone, and Tommy's grin pressed to his chest.

---

Adam figures because Tommy gave him such an amazing birthday, he'd better do something awesome for Valentine's Day. Then he figures that Valentine's Day is maybe too cheesy, and Tommy will think he's stupid if he makes a big deal out of it.

"Oh my god," Danielle says, when he explains his dilemma while they’re trying to do their homework on a half day early in February. "Just ask him what he wants to do."

"That ruins the surprise, though," Adam complains.

“So instead you both plan some Valentine date and one of you has to be disappointed because you can’t do both things?”

Adam is about ninety percent sure that Tommy is not planning on anything for Valentine's day. It’s just not his scene. But he should maybe listen to Danielle just in case. He lets Danielle get back to her psych essay and ignores his history book in favor of the internet.

The trouble is that Valentine's Day doesn’t seem to be geared towards pairs of teenage boys. (Not that most of the girls he knows would be interested in the things the ads and the websites are suggesting, but they definitely aren’t for Tommy.) Adam’s not buying diamonds or roses, and Tommy’s not really that into chocolate. Adam would be cool with about a hundred more matching piercings, but he doesn’t want to steal Tommy’s birthday idea. They’re not old enough to get tattoos. Which kind of leaves dinner. And maybe a necklace or a bracelet or something. Adam wonders if he remembers how to make friendship bracelets still. But he hasn’t seen Tommy wearing anything on his wrists since junior high, so probably a necklace would be better.

“What do you think of this?” he asks, angling his laptop screen toward Dani. He’s found a silver pendant with an eye on it, hanging from a black cord.

“It makes you look like a stalker. Why don’t you get him these?” Danielle tips her own screen his direction to show him something called Bedroom Dice. There’s a woman wearing underwear and high heels on the package.

“I don’t even want to know what those are,” Adam says. “I’m not getting him sex toys. That’s creepy.”

“Creepier than an eye to hang around his neck?”

Much creepier, but Adam doesn’t feel like arguing. It’s not like he was super attached to the idea of that particular pendant. He clicks past a wolf’s head and a pentagram. Danielle says, “Don’t get him something that looks like it came from Hot Topic.” And that’s an idea. The place Tommy likes to buy old band shirts had some pretty cool jewelry.

“You’re a genius,” he says. “Wanna go to Silver Lake?”

With Danielle, shopping trumps homework every single time. She ditches her essay and calls her cousin Marisa to see if she’ll take them shopping. She’s got a client meeting―she’s a wardrobe consultant, which as far as Adam can tell means she gets paid to go to people’s houses and tell them their clothes are ugly―but the client lives in Los Feliz, so Marisa will drop them off on her way and pick them up when she gets done. Adam even has time to finish his history chapter before she gets there to pick them up. It’s, like, perfect.

The first store they go in has about twenty pairs of platform shoes that Danielle can’t keep away from, but the jewelry selection sucks. Adam has to literally pry a pair of lucite disco shoes with rainbow stacked heels out of Danielle’s hands. Even though they’re over a hundred dollars, he might have let her get them, except that they’re two full sizes too small and her toes hang off the ends. “Marisa would kill you. And then me,” he says, putting them back on the shelf and bodily standing between her and the shoes. “Come on. I’ll buy you some coffee.”

A chai latte mollifies her enough that she doesn’t complain when he walks her past the store with the shoes again to get to the shop where Tommy found his vintage Hendrix poster. She loses herself in a rack of coats, and Adam heads for the display counters at the back. The case of pipes catches his eye, but Danielle would have questions he doesn’t want to answer, and if Tommy’s parents found drug paraphernalia in his room he’d probably be in even more trouble than he got for the booze, so he moves past that, and the case of ashtrays and letter openers, to the ones with rings and necklaces.

“Looking for something for your girlfriend?” the woman behind the counter asks when she spots him. She’s probably Marisa’s age―28 or so―and dressed to kill. She looks like she has lots of opinions on what girls like their boyfriends to buy for them.

“No,” Adam answers, glancing over at Danielle, trying not to turn pink. He feels weird telling the woman he’s shopping for his boyfriend, and it doesn’t occur to him to say he’s looking for something for himself.

But then an older guy in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt interrupts them. “I’ll help him, Sandy. That woman you were showing the poodle skirts to needs something.” When she walks away toward the dressing rooms, the man gives Adam a broad smile. “You look like you’re after something more rock-and-roll than Audrey Hepburn.”

Adam isn’t sure if it’s his black hair or his Queen tee, but he’s grateful. He’s pretty sure no one has ever thought he was rock-and-roll before. Except then the man winks and adds, “Have you got a boyfriend already, or are you hoping to catch someone with your choice?” and Adam realizes the guy thinks he’s gay.

Or, knows he’s gay. Because it’s not like he’s wrong.

“Dani?” Adam calls, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as panicked as he feels. It’s not a big deal. The guy doesn’t sound like an asshole, or really like a creep, and it’s not like he’s pressing Adam’s blown kisses to his dick or anything. He just wants to help Adam get the present that he wants. Nothing to freak out about.

“D’you find something?” Danielle asks from over his left shoulder, and Adam relaxes a fraction. “I can’t even tell you the junk he was looking at on line.” Danielle gives the shop guy her teacher’s pet smile. “I bet you can find him something perfect.”

“I hope so,” the guy replies, but he’s smiling at Adam when he says it.

Okay. Really not a big deal. “Already have a boyfriend,” Adam almost whispers, ignoring the funny look Danielle’s giving him. It’s not quite her are you kidding me look, but it’s close.

“Lucky guy,” the man says, and starts getting trays out of the case.

It doesn’t take them long to find a medium length necklace of small black beads with three slightly larger hematite beads opposite the clasp. It’s actually less expensive than the pendants Adam had been looking at, and he likes it a lot better. Danielle gives two thumbs up of approval, and store guy not only has a plain black box made specially for necklaces, but is willing to wrap it in silver paper for no extra charge. Adam feels sillier and sillier for having been scared of him.

“What the hell was your deal in there?” Danielle demands as soon as they get outside and the door shuts behind them.

“Nothing,” Adam tries, even though he knows it’s futile.

“Was he like a creeper or something before I got there? Do I need to kick his ass? Because I will totally kick his ass if he was hitting on you in a sleezy way or anything.”

“No!” Adam says. “No. He wasn’t― He just, like, assumed I was gay. And I―“ Adam doesn’t know how to explain.

“And you totally are, so that’s a problem because…” Danielle shoves him. “Even if you weren’t, what’s wrong with being gay? Are you a secret homophobe?”

“What?” Adam shoves her back, but it’s pretty half-hearted because he’s distracted by the whole why would she even think that thing. People get beat up for being gay. They get killed. And excuse him if he doesn’t want to be one of those people.

“Why do you care if some old gay dude knows you swing from his side of the plate?”

“I swing from― Have you been watching that weird 90s gay softball movie you tried to show me again?”

“Timothy Olyphant. And Dean Cain. And Zach Braff. Don’t try to tell me you don’t watch Scrubs marathons when they’re on. How many times do I have to tell you it’s not about you, it’s about all the hot dudes?”

“How was I supposed to know he was gay? He might have been a gay basher or something.”

Danielle gives him the full-on are you kidding me look not tempered for company. “Adam, honey, we’re at a vintage store in Silver Lake. And you did look at him, right?” She checks the traffic before pulling him out into the street by the wrist, heading back toward the coffee shop where they’re meeting Marisa. “Maybe you’re the one who should be watching more gay movies. He was practically out of central casting.”

“Whatever. Why do I need movies? I’d rather be having gay sex with my gay boyfriend.”

One day Danielle’s going to hurt something rolling her eyes like that.


Adam’s mom lets him take her car to Burbank on Saturday if he promises to be home by ten. He wants to take Tommy his necklace right away, but he managed to get a reservation at an Argentine restaurant Yelp assures him is romantic for Tuesday night, so he’s going to wait for actual Valentine's day like an adult. He can’t stop thinking about seeing Tommy with a necklace Adam gave him around his neck, though. He really hopes Tommy likes it.

“I mean it, Adam. Home by ten. I don’t want you driving through LA on a Saturday night when people are moving from the bars to the clubs.”

“Okay, Mom. Okay.” Adam kisses his mother’s cheek as he takes the keys she’s dangling off one finger. “I promise.” Tommy’s parents are gonna be home anyway, so it’s not that likely he’ll get too distracted to leave on time.

The advantage of Tommy’s parents having no idea Tommy and Adam are dating is that they don’t forbid them to shut Tommy’s bedroom door. But his mom is doing laundry so she keeps coming in without knocking to pick up dirty clothes or drop off clean ones, and then to ask what they want for lunch, do they want a drink, or a snack. And then Tommy’s dad starts in, calling up to see if they want to come downstairs and watch Animal Planet, it’s about big cats― and Tommy rolls his eyes, but Adam says, “Might as well,” because, seriously, it’s got to be easier to not grab his boyfriend and shove his tongue in his mouth if there isn’t even any pretense that they’re alone. Besides. Tigers are awesome.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, putting down the guitar he’s been clutching since the last time his mom came in unannounced bearing a bowl of popcorn and a pressed dress shirt Adam can’t imagine Tommy wearing. “I was hoping they’d at least run some errands or something.”

“It’s cool,” Adam says. “I like just hanging out with you.”

“‘Cause I’m just that awesome,” Tommy says like he means the opposite, but he’s smiling like Adam handed him the keys to his own car, and it makes Adam’s heart lurch.

They make it downstairs just in time to catch a female lion dragging a―maybe gazelle―carcass back to her family, and Tommy’s dad saying, “You missed the kill,” like he’s certain they’re going to be crushed with disappointment.

“They’ll show another one, I’m sure,” Tommy says, nudging his Dad’s knee with his own as he walks past to take his spot on the ottoman, leaving the armchair for Adam like they’re ten years old again.

It’s hard to keep his hands to himself with Tommy right there, shoulder nudging Adam’s knee where it’s tucked up against the overstuffed arm Tommy’s using as a backrest, but he has a good view of not only the TV but Tommy’s parents, and between the commentary about lions killing all the cubs when they take over a pride and Tommy’s dad looking all dad-like out of the corner of his eye, Adam manages to resist his inappropriate urges.

“Are you staying for dinner, sweetie?” Mrs. Ratliff says once they’ve all learned everything there is to know about the mating habits of the African lion―and jeeze that wasn’t embarrassing at all.

“Yes,” Tommy answers for him. “We’re just going to go to the park for a little bit first. Back in time to set the table, promise.”

“Um, yes. Thank you,” Adam adds as Tommy drags him toward the front door, death grip on his elbow.

“Have fun, boys,” Mrs. Ratliff calls as they grab their coats and run out the front door.

“The fuck?” Adam asks.

“I was not going to sit there listening to my dad dissect the finer points of lion fucking while mom cooked dinner. We’re gonna make out behind Mrs. Ferrigut’s box hedge.”

“We are?”

Tommy’s still dragging him along, man with a serious mission. “We are. It hasn’t rained in days; there won’t be any mud.”

It rained like Wednesday, but that might have just been out by the ocean. Besides. Making out. And if there’s mud in the bushes, there’s probably mud at the park, and they can say they were wrestling. Or maybe playing tag. That might sound less suspicious.

Tommy shoves Adam through the gap between the hedge and the high fence around Mrs. Ferrigut’s yard, following behind him. When Adam still lived here, Mrs. Ferrigut’s son parked his motorcycle in the space and kept the hedge neatly trimmed so there was room. But he’s gotta be like thirty-five now, probably has his own house to keep his bike at, or maybe he has a car and kids or something. Overgrown, the gap’s a pretty good hiding space. They obviously aren’t the only ones who think so, because there’re even a couple flattened cardboard boxes to sit on, cigarette butts ground into the dirt around their edges.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Adam says, trying to back out again when he sees this is obviously someone’s spot.

“It’s cool,” Tommy says, not halting his forward motion. “Those’r mine.”

Adam’s going to ask why Tommy’s hanging out in his neighbor’s bushes when he has a perfectly good house just up the street, but Tommy pushes him down and climbs on top of him, his dick―his really hard dick―pressing into Adam’s stomach, and questions seem totally beside the point.

They’ve for sure made out more comfortable places than a couple of boxes under some bushes, but they’ve made out less comfortable places, too, and Adam doesn’t really care. His sweater and jacket mostly isolate him from the cold seeping through the cardboard, and Tommy’s warm on top of him if he ignores the cold fingers creeping under his shirt, and when Tommy gets like this, so desperate for Adam’s kisses, it warms something up inside of him that nothing else touches.

“D’you want?” Adam runs his hands down Tommy’s side, angling his fingers in as he reaches his hip, trying to squeeze between them, get at Tommy’s fly.

“S’okay. Just―“ Tommy moves Adam’s hand to his ass, slows his frantic humping to a dirty grind, and starts going at Adam’s lips with teasing brushes of his tongue instead of the sucking bites from a minute ago.

They make out to the sound of the wind rustling in the leaves and the odd car driving past, the sky above them going pink, Adam getting hotter and Tommy cooling down until they meet somewhere in the middle.

“What brought that on?” Adam says when Tommy stops kissing him to nuzzle under his jaw.

Instead of answering, Tommy pulls Adam’s collar down so he can get to skin that’s okay to mark, and starts sucking gently. Adam lets him, liking how it feels, liking knowing that Tommy wants to do it, but he still prods, “Tommy?”

“Like―“ He straightens Adam’s collar, patting it into place, and pillows his head on Adam’s neck. “You were just sitting on my bed all day, like, sitting there, and I couldn’t even kiss you or my mom would have caught us, and then we were watching those lions fucking and your knee was so hot, and if I’d just turned I could have curled up between your legs and sucked your dick, but I couldn’t even hold your fucking hand, because if my mom― She―“ Tommy bites him, a sharp nip that makes Adam jump and his hands grip too tight around Tommy’s waist. “Sorry,” Tommy says, soothing it with his tongue.

When he doesn’t go on, Adam kisses the top of his head, squeezes him again, more gently this time, whispers, “She wouldn’t like me anymore?”

“She wouldn’t understand. Neither of them. Love the sinner, hate the sin.”

There’s nothing Adam can say to that. He doesn’t think that much about church, but he remembers one of the last times he saw Tommy before that weird first kiss at his thirteenth birthday party. It was the summer they were eleven, and between Adam’s mom getting more party jobs and Tommy’s mom sending him to church camp instead of Camp Crescendo where they’d been going together since they were seven, they hadn’t seen each other in months. Adam had been in the front yard for almost an hour―banished from the living room where he was driving his mother crazy―when Mrs. Ratliff’s car finally pulled up, and he nearly tackled Tommy against the side of the car he was so happy to see him.

“Woah,” Tommy had said. “Hey.” He didn’t really hug Adam back, which was weird.

Mrs. Ratliff didn’t get out of the car, which was also weird, just said goodbye through the window before she drove off.

A little warily, Adam said, “Mom made cookies. Snickerdoodles. How was camp?”

“Camp was stupid.” Tommy told him, looking down at the tangle of friendship bracelets on his wrist, picking at a red and black one Adam hadn’t remembered seeing before. “How was music camp?”

Instead of telling Tommy about how he got to sing four songs in the final showcase, Adam said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Finally, Tommy gave Adam a half smile. “Do you have any Fritos? Fritos go awesome with snickerdoodles.”

They'd headed for the kitchen where Adam’s mom unearthed a bag of cool ranch Doritos left over from their fourth of July party and gave it to them with a baggie of cookies and a couple Capri Suns before shooing them back outside. “We can hang in the treehouse,” Adam said when Tommy looked kind of longingly at the sliding glass door to the air conditioned living room with its stereo and the Playstation. “It’s usually pretty cool up there.” He shoved the Capri Suns in his pockets, gripped the chips and cookies in his left hand, and let Tommy climb the ladder first, following awkwardly behind, trying not to drop anything.

Technically, the treehouse was Neil’s. He was the one who begged for it as soon as he saw the big old cherry tree in the backyard, was the one who held pieces of wood and passed tools up to their dad and the guy next door while they built it. But he was at his friend’s house that day, and besides, Adam was tired of having to share everything with his little brother, thought Neil should have to share too. When Adam poked his head through the ladder hole, Tommy had been kneeling on the floor looking at Neil’s hand-lettered sign―which he’d run through their dad’s laminator without even asking―that said, “NO SINGING ALOUED!!” He was still learning his letters when he made it, and Adam was never sure if he forgot the second hump of the W or got confused between aloud and allowed, but he made a point of flouting the sign’s directive at every opportunity back in those days, and had started singing, “Ground control to Major Tom, commencing count―“

Before he could finish the line, Tommy laughed, saying, “Neil’s handiwork?”

Delighted Tommy was acting more like himself, Adam dropped the chips and cookies near Tommy’s knees and hoisted himself the rest of the way up.

They’d picnicked on the rug made from carpet scraps glued onto a tarp, and Adam answered all Tommy’s questions about who was at camp and what shows they did, while Tommy ignored all Adam’s attempts to get any similar information out of him. When the food was gone, Adam lay back on the beanbag chair and tugged Tommy down next to him by the wrist, keeping hold of it so he could point to his various bracelets and ask who made them.

As he'd picked through them, Adam was pleased to see Tommy was still wearing the black-and-gray one Adam made him at camp the previous year, and the shades-of-blue one Adam gave him when he moved, and even the crappy, red-white-and-blue one that was Adam’s first ever attempt at bracelet making. The rainbow one was from Angela who played Dorothy when they did Wizard of Oz the summer before, and Adam’s pretty sure Tommy made the all-black one himself. But there was a green, white, and yellow one he’d never seen before, and the red-and-black Tommy was picking at, and one in different shades of purple in the same pattern as the blue one from Adam.

“Camp or school?” Adam asked, hooking a finger under the green bracelet which was the oldest looking of the new ones.

“School,” Tommy said, and when he didn’t elaborate, Adam shook his arm by his grip on the string. “Fine,” Tommy said, elbowing Adam in the side a little. “Josie. Sat behind me in math. Saw the Mario Kart sticker on my folder, decided we were soul mates or something, and made it for me.”

“Mario Kart rocks. What about this one?” Adam touched the purple bracelet.

“The craft counselor did that. He was showing one of the other guys how to do the herringbone pattern cause he liked the one you made.”

It had taken Adam almost a week to make it, and he was pretty proud of how it came out. Now he couldn’t help smiling that it caught someone else’s attention. “How bout this?” Adam wrapped his fingers around Tommy’s arm and rubbed the black-and-red knots with his thumb.

Tommy didn’t say anything for ages, lying stiffly next to Adam on the beanbag, their shoulders barely touching and Adam’s hand on his wrist their only other point of contact. Adam felt weird, and wasn’t sure if he should let go or not. When they were little, he and Tommy had pushed and shoved for the best spot on the couch and sat half on top of each other to watch cartoons and stuff, and it was never a big deal, but maybe they were grown up now and not supposed to do that? Only Adam didn’t want Tommy to think he was mad or anything, either. Adam was still trying to decide what to do when Tommy moved his hand away, but sort of snuggled closer with his shoulder.

“Remember how Zach had that Batman comic at camp last summer?” he said, quiet.

“Yeah?” Zach had been in Tommy’s cabin, had the top bunk above him, and the three of them had hung out a lot that year. The year Tommy went to church camp Zach had started learning drums, and Adam hadn’t seen him as much.

From his vantage point on the beanbag, Adam could see Tommy was playing with his bracelets again. “You know how when your cabin counselor came to find us to tell us free time was over and we had to go to afternoon activities, and we were all lying on Zach’s bed so we could see the pages, and you kind of had your head on his arm and I kind of had mine on your chest, and Ed laughed and said that was one of his favorite issues, but it would still be there after dinner and it was time to go?”

Adam had no idea where Tommy’d been going with that, but he nodded, and said, “Mmm hmm,” when he realized that Tommy wasn’t even looking at him.

“That’s not how it was at this camp.”

Suddenly picturing like, Friday the Thirteenth or something, Adam asked, “No comics allowed?”

“Comics were okay, just they were weird about, like―“ Taking a deep, shuddery breath Tommy flicked a glance at Adam then went back to looking at his hands. “My bunkmate, Jon, brought, like, I don’t know. This awesome comic book, like a real hardback book, and we were on his bed just looking at it, and he was telling me about the characters and stuff, because it wasn’t normal like Batman or X-Men or anything, there were like these kids at a school and a ghost, and our counselor came in and he was really mad.”

“Because of the ghost?” Adam knew even less then than he knows now about being Catholic, but he knew the Holy Ghost is this big deal, and figured they didn’t like you to read about other kinds of ghosts.

“Because we were on Jon’s bed.”

Adam didn’t get it. He’d only been to music camp, but in his experience, at camp your choices of places to hang out during free time were pretty much the bed or the steps outside your cabin. And the steps weren’t very comfortable. “Why?” he’d asked.

“Boys aren’t supposed to share beds.” The way Tommy said it reminded Adam of how his mom would tell Neil that he was never ever ever to go out in the street without holding someone’s hand when Neil was little.

“But you were just reading?”

“Every day from then ’til the end of camp, we had to go to the deacon’s office during free time and kneel on the floor and ask forgiveness and say prayers and stuff and then listen to lectures about being real men and serving the church by getting married and giving our wives the gift of children. It fucking sucked.”

Adam hadn’t gotten it then, that the counselor and the deacon thought Tommy and Jon were doing something dirty, not just being kids. He’d thought they were eating in their bunks or something. Now he can’t really imagine having Tommy in bed next to him and not wanting to touch him.

“I made reservations for Tuesday night,” he says, wanting to give Tommy (and himself, if he’s honest) something happier to think about than his parents’ religious enthusiasms. “Valentine's Day. I know it’s cheesy or whatever, but it was really nice what you did for my birthday, and I missed your birthday, so.” Tommy’s head shifts and then his chin digs in just under Adam’s collar bone. “Only if you want,” Adam adds. He should have said that part first. Tommy’s a little too close to focus on clearly, but Adam tries.

“Really? You want to take me out to dinner?”

Lifting his head, Adam pecks the tip of Tommy’s nose. “It’s not too fancy, like you don’t have to wear a tie, but it’s a little nice. Is that okay?”

“Mom just ironed my nice shirt,” Tommy says, prodding Adam’s chin with his. Adam still can’t really see him in a dress shirt, but maybe he’d like to.

“Yeah. Okay. You could wear that. But still jeans if you want. I like those black ones.” They’d look good with the necklace.

“Sneaky,” Tommy says, and he looks happy again; the worried frown gone from his forehead. “You got reservations. On Valentine's day.”

“It’s getting dark, speaking of dinner.”

“Shit.” Tommy wiggles until he can get his knees underneath him and stand up, then pulls Adam to his feet. “I wish it wasn’t a school night. Then maybe we could get a motel room, say I’m spending the night at yours and you’re spending the night at mine, and we could…”

“A motel?” There’s enough wind Adam can blame the shiver that jolts his spine on that, but it’s the thought of spending a whole night with Tommy. They haven’t done that since that first night with the pizza, and that wasn’t exactly—well—planned, or comfortable, or filled with the kind of amazing sex they’d probably have now if they got a whole night to themselves. “Do you think we’d get away with that?”

“Definitely not on a Tuesday in the middle of February,” Tommy says, tiptoeing up for a last peck to Adam’s lips before heading back to the sidewalk and home. “But if we save up, maybe we can do it soon.

Part 6